( 💔 ) ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ her panicked "mory, what the FUCK" still rings in his eardrums as he sits on his balcony. lounged in a chaise and a handrolled joint between his fingers, it's clear he isn't all too torn up over it... or he's trying to act like it at least, like it doesn't have something twisting in his stomach. eyes dart to the door behind him as he's taking a long drag, smoke slowly blown out towards the sky. "he heal from his wounded clavicle? what about his ego?" a pause as he finally tilts his head to rest on his cheek in order to look at her. "why the fuck would you bring him to my party, lucia. y'know i don't like him."